


The Ministry Masquerade

by playout, PrinnPrick



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Homosexuality, M/M, Masquerade, Sexual Content, Smut, Switching Perspectives, both are weird, graphic smut, mention of ron x hermione, playout was harry, prinn was draco, two very pervy authors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-15 22:18:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8074996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/playout/pseuds/playout, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinnPrick/pseuds/PrinnPrick
Summary: Harry, having just broken up with his cheating partner not long before, is forced to attend a party--a party involving hidden identities behind masks and charms, where he quickly grows bored out of his skull... Until Draco.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't too long or fancy, but we enjoyed writing it and I have always loved Masquerade stories! Hope you like it, too.
> 
> Oh, and before we are judged for some of the lengths of these sections please remember they were written on phones with tiny screens. We did our best and I personally loved the outcome.
> 
> ~Prinn

Harry retreated to the far edge of the Atrium; the press of bodies mingling around the transfigured dance floor was too close for his comfort. He'd felt ok with Hermione and Ron acting as a social buffer but they had abandoned him for a dance. 

Three dances ago. 

It was brilliant for them that they were still so wonderfully in love, but he wasn't exactly in the mood to be witness to it. Not so soon after Ian. And definitely not at another bloody Ministry function he was forced to attend against his will. (He still wanted to know where in the Head Auror's handbook did it say he'd have to attend ruddy _masquerade balls_ as part of his expected job duties.)

He slumped against the wall to brood, counting down the minutes 'til he was allowed to leave, heedless of the risk of wrinkling his tuxedo. Out of habit, he went to adjust the lay of his glasses on the bridge of his nose, but his fingers brushed the black velvet of his mask instead. The vision enhancing charm he used to wear the stupid thing (at Hermione's firm insistence-- _you can't go to a masquerade without a **mask** , Harry_) was holding up well but he'd pay for it the next morning with a splitting headache.

Where was a bomb threat when you needed one?

*****

Draco Malfoy stood just on the other side of the room with a cool drink in hand. He wore a white and silver half-mask that climbed down his pointed nose with matching suit (white with silver trimming and subtle stripes) that caused his already pale features to become nearly ghost-like under short robes. His hair, usually stroked back with fragrant gel, had been tossed to the side and swept forward into his face and over his right ear. 

There was a small, polite smile on his face as he nodded and vaguely interacted with the crowd. Apparently a few had gone the extra mile and changed their hair or eye color--was that Unspeakable Jones with green hair? A few guests even looked as if they could be related to Draco with the white-blonde they chose to sport. It might have been annoying, had it not offered the perfect opportunity...

As Draco walked carefully through the crowd he noticed a familiar mop of black hair, coupled with a perfect blend of bored and annoyed that could only be one person: he had just spotted Potter. It was a long shot (he was certain he would be recognized immediately), but as soon as he caught the Auror's eye over the crowd his smile widened and his silver eyes flicked in appreciation over Potter's body. He lifted his glass and sipped, lightly licking his lips after without breaking contact.

*****

_Hullo._

Harry was graced with a smile from a handsome stranger. He wasn't sure if it was flirtatious or merely friendly, but it was nice all the same. He straightened his posture and smiled back. The bloke held his gaze a moment longer, took a delicate sip of his drink, then turned to weave his way back into the crowd with what might have been a parting nod.

Harry fought down the urge to follow. 

He didn't date within the workplace. Though that severely limited his options, he was a firm believer in keeping his professional and personal lives separate. Just because he hadn't recognized the man didn't mean he didn't know him--that was rather the point of the masquerade, wasn't it? After 13 years, he knew just about everyone in the Ministry, even if most of those relationships were limited to polite smiles and greetings in the Lifts or at the Floos. 

He racked his brain to try to place the man by his body shape and gait alone since many attendees had gone so far as to change their facial features with glamours. He seemed familiar, but Harry couldn't place him.

Oh well.

*****

 _Well, that's no fun,_ Draco thought as he noticed how quickly (and almost enthusiastically) he had gained Potter's attentions. Perhaps he was just being hopeful? As Head Auror it was his job to be polite and attentive at functions such as these, was it not?

Time for a test.

Draco purposely swam in and out of the crowd until he was merely a few feet from the object of his current fascination. He finished his glass and set it aside to take another (only his second for the night. He knew it would take more than two cups of cheap champagne to get his tolerance squirming.) He swung his hips in a certain way and walked right in front of Potter's view--merely a foot or two away and then slowly (purposely) away toward the buffet. Making sure he was well in view the entire time and discretely looking at Potter to check his engagement.

*****

Harry was just about to go in search of his friends when he caught another glimpse of the mystery man. He was closer now, making his way to a masked server with a platter of champagne flutes. The man exchanged his empty glass for a full one, tilted his head in Harry's direction, and seemed to be walking straight toward him. 

Harry's heart rate picked up in anticipation. He wondered if the man intended to strike up a bit of small talk or if the exaggerated sway in his steps meant he'd try something more. Something Harry might reciprocate...if only for a few minutes of excitement in an otherwise dull soirée. 

What harm was there in a bit of flirting? Especially if, for all intents and purposes, they were strangers who would never see each other again. He licked his lips and took a step towards the man, who proceeded to walk right past him. 

Godrick's knob. Harry felt like such a tit. The bloke was headed for the buffet, probably had been all along. 

Was that first smile even meant for him? Maybe not. 

At least his embarrassed disappointment was mostly hidden by the mask and relative darkness of the room. Romantic torches burned in scones on the walls and pillars throughout the airy space, casting interesting shadows about the place. Harry left his post to go hide in the sea of anonymity. 

*****

Draco looked back with a small chocolate in hand to fully gage Potter's reaction, but the man was back in the crowd. Had Draco just fantasized the way he seemed so eager to speak with him as he passed? Potter didn't even look at his legs, and he knew his legs looked great in these! Draco, deciding it was suddenly too hot, removed his short robes, handed them to a servant with a barked order that was mostly threat, and then walked through the crowd as nonchalantly as possible. With arse now on display through his white trousers, a few guests he passed happily oggled--a good sign, Draco walked up to a pair of Unspeakables (he recognized their anti-social behaviors, they were the resident wallflowers) and turned to speak to them with fine backside to the crowd. 

And how nice it was that Potter and what Draco assumed to be his Weasel friends were in a group just behind him! What a coincidence.

*****

Harry missed Ron's punchline. He forced a laugh because he could tell that was what was expected at that point in the story, but his attention was almost entirely consumed by the perfect arse on display at his eleven o'clock. 

Sweet Merlin, those shiny white trousers were like a second skin. They may as well have been laced with Amortentia for the way they captivated him. 

The trouble was, Harry knew who that arse belonged to; much as it shamed him to admit it. He'd secretly stared at it often enough to be sure. The masked man was none other than Draco Malfoy. Which meant Harry had to have been imagining the spark of interest he thought he saw earlier. Unless, perhaps, Draco hadn't recognized him. 

That was almost just as bad. 

He sighed dejectedly and returned his attention to Ron, missing the fact Draco had glanced over his shoulder at him a moment before. 

*****

Draco twitched a little as he noted Potter's inattention to his perfect arse. And it was perfect, dammit! Why couldn't Potter appreciate it the way Draco thought he should? 

And he knew Potter was gay, it hadn't been a secret. Another fact was that Potter preferred lean blondes, like that Ivan or whoever he had been dating until the slimey bastard was caught with his wand in another cauldron, and then had their relationship (and all of Potter's details from cock size to moans) on public display for the papers after Potter "dared" break up with him over it.

Needless to say, Draco bought every copy he could (all of them) and bribed the paper to keep their mouths shut and not print anymore. Both to save Potter from more humiliation and to keep those details to himself as much as possible.

So, what was wrong with Draco? Potter didn't seem to recognize him so it couldn't be their past... Was he too tall? His cologne too rich? ... Did he walk crooked and not notice?

Draco grit his teeth in frustration and turned back to his conversation, sort of. They hardly spoke anyway, so Draco used most of his brain power to conjure another plan up. A slow smirk began to creep along his patrician features as a new, more direct idea immediately presented itself. He excused himself politely between sentences and walked into the crowd again, this time purposely brushing past Harry (crotch to butt) in order to greet a pompous looking man with a large, feathery mask.

******

Harry tensed up as he was practically molested for the 12th time that evening--the masks and the drinks had made far too many in attendance bold with their 'accidental' touches. He turned to give his assailant a piece of his mind but stopped dead when he discovered it was Draco. Though the Unspeakable had his back to him, Harry could tell his focus wasn't on the man with whom he conversed. The line of his shoulders and tilt of his head indicated that he was listening for a reaction. Maybe even hoping for one. 

Feeling reckless and emboldened (these bloody masks were dangerous), Harry took a large step backwards so that he and Draco were nearly back-to-back. He casually replied to Hermione's inquiry about the lobster bisque ("It's good. You should try it.") and reached behind himself to give Draco a firm, retributive pinch on the arse. 

*****

Draco jumped as he was unexpectedly pinched, but played it off as nothing to the man who quirked a brow in question. Both his arms casually looped behind to his back, one hand loosely gripping his wrist as the other leant forward and returned Potter's pinch with a quick squeeze and a widening of his smirk. 

"I think the Spotted dick is a bit tart, but have you tried the French chocolates? I was surprised to see them, considering the budget and all. Not the brand I would have chosen, but decent I suppose."

*****

Harry grinned. There was no mistaking the intentionality of that response. And given his company--Ron and Hermione were rather identifiable with their respective ginger and bushy brown hairdos, especially as a pair--it was unlikely Draco didn't know who he was at that point. 

He wasn't sure if it was the drinks or the thrill of the game or something else altogether that had incited him to behave so out of character. Normally Draco was aloof and utterly unattainable to everyone in the Ministry and he treated Harry with polite reserve on the rare occasions that they crossed paths. Not that Harry expected any different, but he had entertained more than a passing fancy. Draco was bloody fit. And he'd made a damn fine show of turning his life around. And he may or may not have been the reason Harry realized he was bent shortly after the war (when he finally had a chance to sort those things out).

Well, whatever it was, he liked it. 

_Just for tonight_ , he reminded himself sternly. 

"I need the loo," he announced to his friends, hopeful Draco would hear him and take the bait. 

*****

It took a lot of restraint to keep the grin from bursting on his face as he heard Potter announce his departure to somewhere much more private. He waited until the Auror was out of sight and his two friends were deep in a chat (something about "Baby Cheeks" or something), as if they were the only ones in the world, before excusing himself once again to follow after Potter to the loo. There was only one, but it was large enough on the inside to fit a stadium of people. Draco skillfully dodged hands and conversation alike as he passed through crowd, eventually walking inside the Men's loo with his heart beating loud in his chest.

*****

"I wasn't sure you'd follow," Harry admitted from his hideout behind the door as he snagged Draco's shirt front and pulled him in for an aggressive snog. He was riding high on adrenalin and lust, the executive functioning parts of his brain temporarily disabled. Draco didn't have a chance to get a word in edgewise before their lips crashed together, masks bumping, tongues twining, each man making his own breathy noise of victory. He pinned Harry against the cool tiles of the wall--a welcome respite for his overheated skin--and Harry opened both his mouth and legs wider in invitation. He'd had a shitty couple of months. This was exactly what he needed without even knowing it. 

He owed Kingsley a thank you letter for forcing him to attend. 

...and that was the last semi-rational thought he was capable of having after Draco slotted their hips together and ground against him. 

*****

A yelp of surprise was all he had time for just before he was pulled into the most intense snog of his life. His hands instantly moved to grip the Auror's hip and around his waist--one hand digging underneath Potter's dress robes in order to grab at and loosen the starched top underneath, pulling it from the tight band of his trousers. 

"Want you," he murmured between molten kisses, "so fucking much."

Once Potter's top was free of his trousers Draco grabbed his hips in a tight grip and happily slotted himself between Potter's for a series of rough hip rolls and hard bucking--grinding their erections together and most likely smashing Potter's tailbone into the wall. The ravenette didn't argue or complain so the thought of possibly hurting the Auror was fleeting, drowned in a deluge of sensation and nonsense mainly involving _hot, yes_ , and _fuck_ circling each other in Draco's head.

*****

Harry groaned long and loud, heedless of their potential audience, and let his head fall back against the tiles as he tried futilely to catch his breath and keep up with the man who'd come wonderfully alive with that single kiss. He wasn't too worried--from the other gasps and moans echoing in the cavernous space, he and Draco weren't the only ones who'd had the same idea. Merlin, the fallout from this ill-conceived party was going to be disastrous. HR would have their hands full come Monday.

Not his problem. 

Harry gleefully dove back in for another glorious snog, mirroring Draco's tactics and snaking his hands into the other man's shirt to clutch at the lovely muscles of his back. 

There was something he had to know, however. Beyond the shadow of a doubt. 

"Say my name," he breathed against Draco's soft, kiss-bruised lips. 

*****

Draco quirked a brow over the mask as he was give the order. He went to grab at the front of Harry's shirt and grasp both sides, ripping the Auror's top open with a cascade of buttons as he murmured in a dark, lust-ridden voice, "Harry Going-To-Be-Fucked Potter."

*****

Harry experienced the mental equivalent of one of Ginny's notorious Reductos. He rejoiced that Draco knew his identity and hadn't shown an ounce hesitation over it and he could have wept over how bloody good Draco's promise sounded, but then his useless voice of reason had to go and choose that moment to rear its stupid shag-ruining head and screech at him that letting Draco Malfoy have his way with him in the Atrium's loo was a Very Bad Idea, citing the following reasons:

Harry was the Head Auror. He'd just gotten out of a long term relationship that had ended badly (to put it mildly). Not only was Draco a co-worker, but he was practically a stranger--they hadn't had a real conversation in more than a decade. They were in public. It could be a trap. Worse, Draco could be under the influence of a mind altering substance!

Fucking hell. Why couldn't he just enjoy a quick, freely-offered buggering like a normal person? 

"This is going to sound really awful," he said regretfully, releasing Draco's back and preparing himself for a slap or hex, "but can I ask you a couple questions first? Somewhere more private, maybe?" 

*****

Draco was annoyed, yes (and it showed in his scowl), but not so enraged as to curse the git. Instead he stared at Potter in flat silence for nearly a minute before releasing him and crossing his arms over his disheveled shirt.

"... I knew this was too good to be true. Harry Potter hates me. What paper do you work for and how much am I going to have to pay to keep your mouth shut?"

Draco took a full step back and raised himself to his full height in an effort to looked more intimidating. 

"Be mindful: if it isn't _within reason_ I will have you buried to your throat in cursed objects and litigation that will leave you incapicitated for months," he snapped, narrowing his silver eyes dangerously.

*****

"Wait, what?" Harry replayed Draco's words in a head that was woefully deprived of blood and slow to respond because of it. "You think I'm not me?" He cast _finite_ on the sticking charm holding his mask in place and stuffed it into his coat pocket, thinking that would be enough to convince Draco of his identity and intentions. 

"I don't hate you," he said honestly, quietly (mindful of listening ears). "And this isn't a trick or a trap. Really, I was hoping to figure out the same thing. Or if you'd been dosed with a lust potion or something. I never would have thought you'd want to...you know," he looked between them pointedly, suddenly bashful about giving voice what almost happened, even as he grieved its loss. 

*****

Well, he certainly acted bashful like Potter did when there was a chance the man was mistaken. But what if he was on polyjuice? It was strictly forbidden to use another employee's hair (or any hairs outside of under cover jobs) especially for this sort of circumstance, but that didn't mean he wasn't a very determined snoop.

"Tell me something only Potter knows, then," Draco demanded, still tense in his stance as he stared coldly at the Auror. The soft laughter and playful lust once open for display in his eyes was gone.

*****

Harry hemmed and hawed. He was privy to several facts about Draco the man himself wasn't even aware of but none of them were appropriate for the current (or rather hoped-to-be-rekindled) mood. They hadn't spoken since school and their acquaintance back then was hardly made up of sunshine and roses. 

Seeing nothing for it and deciding he was long overdue to apologize anyway, he splayed his palm in the center of Draco's chest and leaned in to whisper, "I nearly killed you in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom." 

Draco was still as a statue, not even breathing as far as Harry could tell. "'m really sorry about that," he added earnestly. "Never rightly said so before." 

*****

"Funny you bring up that particular memory," Draco murmured with a small, cautious softening of his frown. He placed a hand over the one settled on his chest and squeezed. "Well, I was going to Curse you with something pretty nasty myself. I'll admit you had to defend yourself, though really--you can't bother to do a little research on a spell before using it? Very Potter-like, but I do hope you learned a thing or two about being less idiotic with unknown spells."

A long, loud moan echoed across the bathroom from down a few stalls. Draco was momentarily distracted as he turned to look in the direction of the noise.

*****

"Forgive me then?" Harry asked with a hopeful, lopsided grin that he knew many people found charming (he wasn't above using all the weapons in his arsenal; not for this) and ignoring the sound of someone climaxing a few feet away from them. _Lucky bastard._

*****

Draco turned back in time to catch Potter using his infamous grin, the one Draco was very familiar with but had never been given the pleasure of being the recipient of. He smirked down at the hopeful ravenette and sighed with a slight shake of his head.

"I don't know... That apology wasn't very sincere," he replied with a grin Draco rarely displayed these days. "I might need more convincing."

*****

"Bollocks," Harry scoffed, fingering the edge of Draco's mask before untying the satin ribbon that held it in place. "It was completely sincere and you know it." He smirked into Draco's pale, pretty eyes (what right did he have to have lashes that thick and long? Harry'd never noticed before because their colour was so light they were hard to see from a distance). "But if you need more convincing," he purred, cupping Draco's cheek and sliding his hand around to the back of his head to pull him down until their lips nearly touched, "I can give you more convincing." 

If their first snog had been a revelation, and their second an empassioned addendum to it, this one was a comprehensive treatise on the very good reasons Draco should take Harry to bed. Right bloody now. 

*****

Draco let the mask fall after the ribbon was pulled away. It made a dull sound on the floor as it hit the ground. The blonde wrapped his arms tight around Potter's waist and jerked him forward to plaster their torsos together, earning him a gasp. Draco smirked again.

"How about we leave the loo, quietly walk through the crowd under a Notice-Me-Not, and Apparate to your place? Anti-apparition wards here, I'm afraid."

*****

"My office is closer," Harry argued with a saucy wink. He didn't want to wait any longer than was strictly necessary, but he also wasn't willing to invite Draco into his home just yet. Some risks were easier to mitigate than others (and his office was heavily warded on the off chance he'd seriously underestimated the man). He craned his neck to whisper in Draco's ear, "And I have clearance to Apparate anywhere in the building." He flicked his tongue out for a single, hot lick, and whisked them both to Level Two. 

*****

Draco fell uncomfortably onto the Head Auror's desk with Potter on top of him. He didn't have time to enjoy the hot licking to his ear before they Apparated and his back banged onto the old wood- barely missing the sharp quill stand. He looked up at the man straddling his hips and pouted.

"Some apology. Bang me against your desk, of course."

*****

Harry grinned down at the adorably pouting man below him, arms braced on either side of his head. "You might like it better when I tell you my plan was for _you_ to bang _me_ on top of it," he said cheekily. "But I'm versatile. We can do this however you fancy if you'll just let me run a couple of diagnostic spells first to make sure you are in your right mind." Merlin forbid they do the deed, only afterward does Draco come to his senses. 

*****

Draco rolled his eyes and gripped Potter's hips.

"You think I'm enscorcelled? Why? I'll have you know that your fine arse has been the subject of quite a few shameful dreams of mine, since I was about fourteen."

Draco lifted his hips, still pressed on by Potter, and jerked them forward. He made sure Potter was in the right position coming down to have their cocks rub together.

"Every time I saw you in Quidditch leathers, Auror robes, in those ridiculous muggle jeans... All I ever thought about was what it would take to get you naked and have you for all mine for a night. Longer if I could, but let's not get ahead of ourselves.

"Now either strip naked and bend over the desk or me over the desk (I don't care which) or should I leave?"

*****

Harry shivered at Draco's words, no longer sure who was supposed to be convincing whom. Draco didn't /sound/ like someone who was there against his will...

 _Eh, fuck it_ , he thought, throwing caution to the wind. Ian had been a nice, safe boyfriend and look where that got him. 

Draco thrust up against Harry's straining erection, effectively silencing his wayward thoughts and crumbling the last of his meager resistance.

"Godrick," he exclaimed, pulling off his coat and the ruined tatters of his shirt after ditching his cummerbund and bow tie. "I want you to fuck me, Draco. _Please._ you have no idea how badly I need this."

*****

"Happy to oblige," Draco half-groaned as he twisted his hips and rolled them over and off slightly so that Potter's back was on the (thankfully long) desk while Draco's feet were planted on the ground. He slid his hands from Potter's hips to under his thighs where he held on firmly to support the other man. He rolled his hips forward again--their clothed cocks brushing once more.

"How do you want it, Potter? Hard and fast or deep and slow?"

*****

"Yes," Harry answered enthusiastically, deliberately obtuse. "All of the above." 

He hooked his ankles behind Draco's back to pull him in closer, moaning at the sensation of Draco's hard cock dragging against his own. 

"Bloody hell, why are we still wearing clothes?"

*****

"Mainly because Neither of us have Vanished them yet," Draco replied right before lifting his wand to do exactly that. They were starkers in seconds--and wasn't skin-to-skin just delightful? So much that Draco enjoyed lowering his hips just enough to drag his cock along Potter's from the Auror's testicles to tip.

*****

Harry gasped at the sudden change in sensation. He never liked those trousers or shoes anyway so he bid them good riddance--he didn't have to worry about what he'd wear when they were done because he had a spare set of robes in the office. He wondered briefly what Draco's plan was, but then Draco thrust against him and Harry decided they could figure that out later. 

"Lube," he ordered, shifting his arse to the edge of the desk for easy access. His years of wank fantasies of the man were foreplay enough. 

*****

Draco licked his lips with anticipation as Potter eagerly positioned himself without assistance from Draco. There had barely been a second of time for thought before the Auror was ready and raring to go--and then nearly demanding lubrication. Draco knew the man was hard, but it was both surprising and erotic to see Harry Potter--former rival, co-worker, dream man--without hesitation for the Unspeakable. 

Draco held tight to Potter's hips and ground his cock against the Auror's ass with a growl of approval.

"If you want lube conjure it yourself... Along with the protection charm, but don't you _dare_ prepare yourself. That's going to be my job just as soon as my fingers are slick enough to plunge into your wanting, little hole..."

*****

"Bastard," Harry growled, but there was no real heat behind the words. He liked that Draco had some fight in him. (Ian, on the other hand, had acted meek and accommodating while secretly playing him for the fool; not that he expected him and Draco to date or anything.)

He drew his wand out of its holster and held his hand out impatiently for Draco's, conjuring a small puddle of lube in the middle of his palm when it was offered. After casting the necessary protection spells (and nothing else), he set his wand aside and pulled his legs wide with a hand on each knee, offering himself up to the man who had once been his arch nemesis. 

"You don't need to go easy on me."

*****

"Oh, no need to worry... I wasn't planning to," Draco said as he flashed Potter a predatory smirk and lazily spread the lube between his fingers and moved it down to slick the clear gel over his cock (thoroughly) before finally pressing the first two fingers against Potter's hole. He rubbed around the ring once before pressing both tips at once into the ring of muscle--not bothering to pause once he breached it until he was buried to the third knuckle.

"You're not as loose as I almost expected," Draco mentioned off-handedly as he began to thrust and grind his hands on Potter's insides--scooping and jabbing as he looked for the man's prostate. "I am going to enjoy this."

*****

Harry narrowed his eyes, unsure if he should be offended by that comment. Then Draco found the bundle of nerves he sought and Harry felt rather generously toward him after that moment. His head lolled to the side and he almost lost his grip on his legs when they spasmed involuntarily from the electric sensation. 

"Don't believe the rumours," he muttered. "And for the love of Merlin, don't stop."

*****

Draco chuckled and leaned forward--his hand continuously stroking the man's prostate.

"I meant you feel like you haven't been fucked much," Draco whispered with a hot breath as he leaned his torso across Potter's as much as he could with his hand still thrusting roughly--his breath nearly on the man's ear. "Have you ever been penetrated, Potter? Or do you prefer to do the fucking?"

*****

Harry hummed. Focusing on Draco's words was difficult. Answering was harder still. 

"I prefer to bottom," he panted, eyes screwed tightly shut as Draco worked him mercilessly. Brilliantly. "And this is far from my first time." (He wasn't the slag the Papers sometimes made him out to be, but he'd been in a relationship the last two years and dated before that; virginal, he was not.)

He cried out when Draco ceased trusting to press directly on his prostrate, milking it expertly. A fat bead of come dropped from his cock into the trail of hair below his navel. The pleasure was intense but Harry needed real release. 

"Are we going to keep chatting about you fucking me," he goaded, spearing Draco with a challenging stare, "or are you actually going to do it?"

*****

Draco, instead of growing instantly annoyed, merely chuckled and lifted himself to stare darkly down at Potter. His hand pulled out teasingly slow from Potter's hot chute and instead gripped the body of his own cock.

"I've been thinking about this for years, so forgive me if I wanted to extend our time together," Draco admitted freely just before pressing the wet tip to Potter's pucker. Before the Auror had a chance to reply, Draco slammed hoke with a deep groan.

*****

Harry arched up off his desk with a sucking hiss, upending his inkwell in the process. He didn't notice. His arse _burned_ from Draco's rough treatment but he didn't dare complain--it was exactly what he'd asked for. 

Draco pulled most of the way out and thrust deeply once more, rocking Harry's whole body with the force of it. They groaned in unison. Beneath the hot sting was a blooming pleasure Harry knew would only intensify with time. He focused on that, on the feeling of his body stretching, opening to accommodate Draco's cock. That sensation was his favourite part of sex and the reason he bottomed more often than not; there was nothing else quite like it. 

"So good," he breathed, locking eyes with Draco. He was bloody gorgeous with that fall of hair swinging loose in front of his face and lovely lean torso on display. Harry wanted more of this, more of him. He'd barely even had a chance to see his cock. 

"I hope you don't have other plans, because I'm the sort of bloke who likes to be fucked all night."

*****

Draco pulled out to the very edge of his glands and flexed his hips forward--slamming back in once again, as deep as he could go. He hooked his arms, one at a time, under Potter's knees to give the man's arms freedom and leaned over him with a smirk.

"I see," Draco continued with his slow, deep pace as he spoke. "I'll be sure to cancel my appointments, then, just as soon as I fuck you into oblivion."

*****

Harry beamed, trusting Draco to keep his word (how 'bout that?). With his hands now freed, he looped them behind Draco's neck to pull him down for a snog. They couldn't quite reach, but they could lap at each other's tongues and did so eagerly. He knotted the fingers of one hand into the silky hair at Draco's nape and trailed the other down his back and around his trim waist. Draco wasn't as thin as he used to be--he was still rangy, of course, but he'd filled out a bit, developed some muscle doing Merlin knows what down in the Department of Mysteries. It suited him. 

"Why'd you never say anything about this before?" Harry asked curiously, as though he weren't presently being shagged to the brink of orgasm (even though he most definitely was). His mind had a tendency to go down rabbit holes during sex and the thoughts would become distracting to him if he didn't voice them. Ian had hated it. But Harry was eager to know. If Draco had wanted him as long as he'd said, why did he wait so long to so much as smile at him?

*****

Draco arched his back as it was touched and chuckled as his hips stuttered slightly from surprise. It was unexpected to be conducting a conversation while having sex, but of course that was _exactly_ like Potter. He smirked down at his new lover and began to thrust his hips in harder, faster, and more noisily as lube and precum and sweat began to mingle between their thighs and torsos.

"I didn't think you wanted me," Draco admitted. "I was only planning to flirt a little tonight, but then I knew and changed my mind."

*****

Harry had two false starts before he could reply properly because Draco had picked up the pace and it was just really fucking fantastic. He opened his mouth to respond but his words were swallowed up by his own gasps and grunts. ( _Merlin, but he is good at this!_ ) 

Finally he was able to choke out, "Don't think there's anyone in the Ministry who-- _ah_!--who hasn't wanted you...at least a little." He had to pant for breath a minute before concluding, "'m glad you changed your mind." 

He smiled winsomely, the expression broad and full good-humour...until it twisted with ecstasy. "I'm close," he announced through a throat gone tight. (Really, it was more like a plea.)

*****

"What can I say? I'm rich," he thrust hard enough to move the desk a little, "handsome," he bit down on Potter's neck and fluxed his hips again, "and make a damn fine cup of tea."

Draco groaned as began to quiver as his thrusting became tighter, faster--little staccato thrusts indicating he was close. However, he didn't want to come before Potter--and to that effect he slid an arm from Potter's sweat slicked hip to his sticky cock and squeezed.

*****

That extra bite was all Harry needed to push him over the edge. He came with a hoarse cry, splattering Draco's abdomen and his own with warm, sticky spunk, digging his fingers into his sweaty skin, the muscles of his arse clenching spasmodically around Draco's cock. 

"Fuck yesss," he groaned as he was rocked by a powerful aftershock. 

*****

Draco's brows furrowed and his eyes nearly closed with the power of his orgasm as it ripped through him and into Potter. It was by pure will alone his gaze had remained on the spasming, sated body below him--determined to watch every moment to the last. Once he finally felt emptied, Draco slowly slid his cock out--dripping wet--with a slow sigh (a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding during the last few seconds.) His hands moved to shakily, carefully drop Potter's legs down until his feet were on the office floor. Once that task was done, the blonde levered himself over Potter and kissed him gently.

 

*****

Harry opened his eyes in time to see Draco come apart--beautifully and utterly focused on him, pink lip pulled tight between perfect white teeth, brow furrowed with concentration and effort. Besides the wonderful hot, tingly feelings in and around his body, the sight made something in his chest constrict in a way that merited further examination. 

Another time. 

He shuddered when Draco pulled out--far too soon for his tastes--but smiled at the sweet, soft kiss he was treated to afterwards. He wouldn't have pegged the Slytherin for being such a softie. Wrapping still-shaky legs around Draco's waist (ignoring the twinge of pain in his hips at the gesture) and holding his face in both hands, he thrust his tongue inside Draco's mouth to kiss him hungrily.

He had been serious about wanting to go all night. 

*****

That elicited another short laugh from the blonde as he was already being tempted into round two. He was young and definitely horny, but even he needed at least ten minutes between rounds. Slowly, he pulled out of the kiss.

"Mm, how about we floo to my place? I have a bed that could fit ten people in my room and soft fur blankets we can roll around on," Draco offered between pants, quirking one brow in challenge. "Or are you scared of being in the home of an ex Death Eater? Very dangerous, I admit. You may not be seen for several days..."

*****

Harry barked a laugh. (The man was funny, as well? He was learning all kinds of new and interesting things about Draco Malfoy.) His arse was leaking onto his desk and felt empty and underused; his spent cock lay limp across his hip in a shiny puddle of semen. 

"Tell you what," he wryly bargained, propping himself up onto his elbows, tone that of a seasoned businessman, "you get me off again using whatever tools you fancy and you'll have yourself a deal."

He had a whole pile of holiday leave he could use if Draco was serious about his threat. Merlin, he hoped he was.

*****

" _Any_ tools I like?" There was something in the way he grinned and quirked his brow even higher at that offer. It was a mix between evil and excited. "Well, luckily for you I have a number of useful tools."

Draco grabbed Potter's hands and pulled him forward off the desk. He made sure to immediately wrap an arm around his waist to ensure he would remain upright.

"I'm going to enjoy this... And if we are going to use all my torture devices it may very well take a few days. You will need to inform your loved ones of your capture, of course."

*****

"Only if I want them to mount a rescue effort," Harry countered with a grin, pressing his chest into Draco's and wrapping his arms around his waist. "In this case, I am a willing hostage. But if you think to try anything funny," he warned, mostly (but not entirely) joking, "don't forget that I am the Head Auror for a reason: even with all the dark and mysterious artefacts at your disposal, you couldn't hold me against my will." 

He captured Draco's mouth in another wet, enthusiastic kiss, this one with some bite to it. 

"What are you waiting for?"

*****

"The fact that I can't apparate us from here, unlike other Level 7 employees," Draco replied with a chuckle even as he dragged Potter towards his office floo (after grabbing their wands.) The flames came to life in the same instant that Draco pressed Potter up against the old brick mantel and returned his biting kisses. 

"Mm," he pulled away just long enough to grab a pinch of floo, toss it in, and say clearly (in a dry, raspy voice), "Malfoy Manor," before unceremoniously tossing his lover in--quickly following after with an excited cackle.

*****

Harry found himself in a darkened room in Malfoy Manor, somewhere he hadn't been in many years and, frankly, never expected to be again. Suddenly questioning the wisdom of this plan, he covered his bits with his hands and looked hastily about for unwanted company. Draco stepped gracefully out of the flames a moment later--completely unabashed in his nudity--and sauntered up next to him with a predatory smirk on his face and victorious gleam in his liquid metal eyes. 

"Um...your mum's not around, is she?" Harry asked uncertainly. 

*****

"Mother and father moved out a year or two after the war," Draco assured as he closed and locked his floo (so no one could get in, not so they couldn't leave.) "They reside in France. Now, did you want to continue this ever-so interesting conversation about the parentals while we both stand nude, or shall we go upstairs where the instruments of torture are?"

*****

Oh, right. Harry remembered having heard something to that effect. 

He was relieved to learn they had the place to themselves (except, probably, for house-elves; at least their lot tended not to be shocked by much). He was highly curious about the 'instruments of torture' Draco kept referencing--his imagination was supplying him with all sorts of sordid possibilities and he was eager to learn which, if any, best reflected reality. 

He was just about to say as much when a familiar patronus glided in through the wall. The otter splashed about his head in phantom waves and Hermione's worried voice came through, "Harry, I don't know where you are, but we've just learned someone spiked the punch. It's a lust potion. If you're with someone else please, for the love of Merlin, keep your pants on and report to the first aid station so we can get you the antidote."

And just like that, there went his libido--not the first time Hermione'd had that effect on him--and in its place bloomed guilt and shame. Always a fun combination after sex. Bloody buggering hell. Why hadn't he run the ruddy spells before doing anything with Draco? He'd known his behaviour was way out of character. This whole fucking masquerade was a terrible idea from the start. Hadn't he been saying that all along? People do bloody idiotic things when they feel anonymous. He was no exception, apparently. 

Merlin, how was he ever going to make up for taking advantage of Draco like that?

"Shit, Draco. I'm so sorry!"

*****

Draco quirked a brow and crossed his arms lightly over his bare chest. He took a few steps closer to Potter, though carefully as he was acting much like a scared deer at the moment.

"Sorry for what? Did you drink some of the punch? I only had chapagne at the party. _Punch_ is below me. 

"... Please say you didn't drink any. I would really hate to think the only reason you chose to sleep with me was because of some potion."

*****

"OhthankMerlin," Harry exclaimed on a sigh, slumping with relief. "I thought you were dosed for sure. Godrick, I felt horrible." He grinned sheepishly and closed the distance between them. "I'm totally in my right mind," he assured the dubious Unspeakable. "I never drink anything I didn't see come out of a bottle or can. Too many close calls for me not to be cautious."

*****

Draco snorted as Potter suddenly recovered and explained. He had forgotten for just a moment how popular the Auror really was--of course people have tried to douse him. They may have even spiked the punch just to have a chance with him.

Draco smirked as he placed his hands on Potter's waist and pulled him flush against his body, which was starting to feel cold from dried sweat.

"Now that we have established we are both of a right mind... Shall we escape to my bedroom before an elf catches us? I have many, many plans for you."

*****

"Yes, please!" Harry said emphatically, looping his arms around Draco's neck and giving him another sound snog. 

There was just one loose end to tie up.

He broke away to draw his wand. "I should let Hermione know I'm safe," he prudently explained, "otherwise she really will come banging down the door. This'll be but a moment."

He summoned his patronus to deliver the message. The brilliant white stag had the good grace--and a bit of cheek--to bow regally to Draco, who looked somewhat taken aback to be that close to the imposing construct. It turned its ghostly eyes to Harry, awaiting his instruction. "Tell Hermione: I'm safe. Shagging Malfoy. Neither one of us is dosed (I checked). Send help if you haven't heard from me by Tuesday."

Draco snorted a laugh and the stag bounded silently through the wall. 

"You said something about plans?" Harry prompted with a leering grin. 

_Fin._


End file.
